


_Urban Jungle

by glenarvon



Series: _Brilliancy [2]
Category: Watch Dogs (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Prequel, aiden especially, all teenagers are psychopaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4049563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glenarvon/pseuds/glenarvon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day in the life of seventeen year old Aiden Pearce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	_Urban Jungle

**Author's Note:**

> This idea sparked after _delcaaty_ on tumblr asked what I thought about Aiden's school education and because _nanno_ on ffnet mentioned liking my pre-game Aiden. I have no resistance to suggestion, apparently.
> 
> **Recurring characters:** Tighe previously appeared in Black Sheep and is mentioned in Dogtown, he's a friend of Aiden. Leslie is Aiden's girlfriend in Dogtown (that hare-brained courtship advise notwithstanding.)

[takes place in 1991]

* * *

Ten hours of work were a leaden weight on Kathleen Pearce's entire body, pulling her eyelids down, making her steps heavy and slow, like walking through water. Last week, her car had broken down, needing several replacement parts she couldn't easily afford. She had to take the bus to and from work and it added nearly two hours to her routine, but she could still manage to be home to fix breakfast for her children and see them off to school before dropping into bed.

She gave Aiden's door a loud knock, but received no reply so she opened it, or at least tried to. Barely an inch open, the door stalled and she had to lean into it with her shoulder, pushing a pile of clothes out of the way, some belt buckle got stuck underneath the door and stopped it completely, but it would do.

"Aiden," she called.

Her son's room was dark, he'd meticulously drawn all the blinds, preventing even a hint of morning sun to wake him even a minute earlier than necessary. Kathleen only cast a quick glance around the room. It was just as untidy as the blockage of the door had advertised, though there was some sort of order on his desk, where he'd disassembled two personal computers he'd bought cheap and tried to salvage.

Aiden himself was an equally uneven mountain of blankets, completely hidden from sight and clearly not stirring at all.

" _Aiden._ Wake up right now."

He groaned and the mountain moved a little, though it looked like he was only burying himself deeper, but finally seemed to be giving up, rolled to his side so the top of his head became visible. He opened one eye and fixed it on the glowing digits of his clock.

"Come on," he moaned. "'s another twenty minutes."

"Why is Tighe asleep in his car in our drive-way?"

Drowsiness and confusion washed over his face and he pushed his head a little higher, looking back at her.

"Wha…?"

"Tighe is parked in the drive-away and asleep behind the wheel," Kathleen clarified.

Aiden kept staring at her, clearly trying to process the information and figuring out its immediate meaning. When it clicked through, he let his head drop back down and slung an arm over his eyes.

"He was just supposed to drop me off," he said, voice still rough from sleep. "I dunno shit why he's still there."

Kathleen snorted, arched a brow at him. "Well, I guess he was too drunk or too stoned to drive home _and_ too drunk or too stoned to just come inside, too. But that's not the real questions here, the real question is why he was supposed to drop you off in the first place?"

Aiden groaned again, tightened the arm over his eyes as if it would make her go away.

Kathleen said, "You _promised_ you'd stay home with Nicky."

"We were just over at Krome's house," Aiden said, obvious misgiving creeping in his voice as his sleepiness dripped away. "She isn't a little kid, she can stay home alone for a few hours."

"That's not the point," Kathleen said, but she guessed they were both equally tired of the discussion.

"It never is…"

"No, it isn't," she agreed tartly. She kept still for another moment, but finally relaxed slightly in the doorway.

"Alright," she relented. "Why don't you ask Tighe if he wants to come in for breakfast at least?"

Aiden grunted a very vague affirmative and Kathleen turned to go, forced her feet to move. She unhooked her bag from her shoulder, glad to have the sting leave her flesh. She dropped the bag and her cardigan, then made her way to the kitchen. Passing Aiden's door again, she leaned in briefly.

"I meant _right now,"_ she reminded him.

Aiden cursed audibly, but she heard the whispering of blankets as he finally worked himself free of them. He overtook her on the way to the kitchen, face set in narrow-eyed annoyance.

Through the kitchen window, Kathleen watched Aiden advance on Tighe's car and knock on the window, he had to keep going for quite some time before Tighe even reacted. Tighe rolled the window down, let his head drop out like he'd been shot, staring up at Aiden.

Kathleen busied herself preparing breakfast, set the coffee to percolate, toast in the toaster and put the pan on the stove. When she looked up again, she spotted Aiden at the mailbox, but he'd stopped seemingly in mid-movement, watching a police car as it drove down the street until it turned out of sight.

On her way from the bus station, Kathleen had passed by the police line, but hadn't had the energy to linger or wonder at what new atrocity had been committed in her neighbourhood. It was exactly for that reason that she didn't like to leave Nicky alone at night. Not because she didn't trust her daughter, but because she didn't trust everyone else around her.

Tighe trailed after Aiden into the kitchen, looking just as bedraggled as expected. His blond hair stood out on one side of his head, pressed down tightly on the other. He only made it worse when he pushed his hand through it.

"Good morning, Mrs. Pearce," he said, fidgeting like the teenager he was as she looked him over.

"Good morning, Tighe," she said and released him from her gaze to settle on her son instead. She felt the corners of her mouth tighten. "Aiden? Can you not leave the house in your underwear? We are civilised. At least most of us are."

Aiden only shrugged, mumbled something involving the word 'clean' and sat down on the kitchen table to leaf through the mail.

Tighe hovered around the doorway in indecision, before he pushed himself in and picked a seat next to Aiden, trying to appear unassuming, scratching the side of his face and rubbing his bleary eyes.

Kathleen looked back at him. "Do you need a toothbrush?" she asked, couldn't quite help but smile.

"Uh…" Tighe grunted. "Just coffee thanks?"

Kathleen knocked the eggs into the pan, watched them sizzle for a while, then gave the pan a little shove. She glanced back over her shoulder.

"So, where were you?" she asked.

She saw Aiden pull a face from the corner of her eyes, but he got it under control immediately.

"Just at Krome's place," he said. "Look, that's just a couple of minutes away, if something happens, Nicky could've just called I'd've been there. No biggie."

Kathleen shook her head. "I have to be able to rely on you, if you say one thing and do another… do you think I really can?"

"Nicky doesn't need a babysitter anymore," Aiden insisted. An assessment Nicky would agree with, but neither of them got a say in it as far as Kathleen was concerned.

Kathleen sighed, clenched her jaw. She gave the eggs a quick look, then turned around, crossed her arms over her chest.

"And why are you staying out late on a school day anyway?"

"It wasn't _late,"_ Aiden said.

"It really wasn't!" Tighe confirmed, but shut up immediately when both Aiden and Kathleen shot him a look.

"While we're at it," Kathleen continued. "You skipped twice last week. Anything you have to say in your defence?"

"I was there three times?" Aiden offered. "I was there more often than not."

Kathleen arched her brows. "Try again," she suggested.

Aiden hung his shoulders, obviously trying not to pout, but unsure what else to do. "It was boring," he said, somewhat more meekly under her stare.

He considered school a waste of time. Last winter, she'd spent _weeks_ talking him into treating the SAT with even a measure of earnestness and his results reflected it. He pretended the good score was an accident, trying to brush it aside. She got the impression he'd be much happier if he'd just got every answer wrong instead and got her off his back in the process.

With the obvious intention of changing the subject, Aiden picked up a letter and held it out. "Owen's Garage is holding your car hostage?"

"We already spoke," Kathleen said. "The parts turned out to be more expensive than he'd expected and…”

Aiden's expression darkened as he read the letter to the end, lowered it and glowered at her from across the table. "He won't give the car back, that's bullshit."

"We've agreed he'll hold the car until I pay up a third of it, then pay down the rest. It's not a bad deal."

"No, it's a _terrible_ deal," Aiden said. "I told you I knew someone who can fix the car."

"And I told _you_ I don't want anything to do with these people. It's bad enough that you hang out with them. No offence, Tighe," she added without even looking at him.

Tighe murmured, "None, uh, taken."

Kathleen turned back away from them, busied herself at the stove again. "We've been over this, Aiden, it's going to be hard, but at least it's honest. You'll figure out why eventually. Why don't you go wake your sister?"

The pause told her Aiden thought about arguing, but he put the mail down instead, got up and padded back through the house without any apparent hurry. A few moments later, the sound of a quickly escalating discussion made itself heard, closely followed by what sounded like a brief struggle. Something thudded heavily, presumably when Aiden had yanked the blanket off the bed while Nicole hung on to it.

"You jerk!" Nicole yelled.

Kathleen went to the cupboard and took out a stack of plates, got a handful of cutlery and carried it to the table, set it down and gave Tighe an encouraging smile. "Make yourself useful," she said.

Among the two of them, she knew Aiden was the one with the bad influence on the other, despite her cheap jab in Tighe's direction before. Though, half a year older than Aiden, Tighe had been like a loyal sidekick almost from the first day they'd arrived in Chicago. Kathleen wasn't sure what both boys were growing into, but she knew Tighe's family wasn't in any state to keep him back from the edge. She herself wasn’t doing so well, either…

The doorbell rang and Aiden called, "I'll get it!"

A moment later, Kathleen took the pan from the stove and turned to watch a uniformed police officer walk into the kitchen. She observed him as he looked around the room, aware of the tired-looking woman and the bedraggled teenager sitting at the table. A tilt of his head indicated he'd noticed the sound of the shower.

"I'm sorry to disturb you this early," the cop said. "But there was a knifing just down the road sometime last night and I was wondering if any of you heard or saw something?"

He took a step further into the kitchen when Aiden squeezed past him. Aiden had pulled on a crumpled T-shirt and made his way to the coffee machine, poured himself a cup and leaned back against the counter.

"I work nightshifts," Kathleen said. "I just got home half an hour ago."

The cop looked around the room again, lingered first on Tighe, then Aiden.

"What about you two?" he asked. "Were you home?"

"Yes," Aiden said immediately. "Babysitting my sister. But we didn't see anything. It was quiet. I mean, as quiet as it gets around here."

The cop watched him. Pensively, he asked. "Do you think I didn't see the gang tattoo?"

The blood drained from Aiden's face, but his composure held. "But we were home," he insisted.

"Yeah," Tighe added. "I wish we could help, poor Three Wheel, right?"

The cop snapped his head around, did his best to school his features and said, "Three Wheel? Did I mention that?"

Tighe didn't miss a beat. "I just heard it, fuck you… I mean, not _you,_ officer. Some guys said it was Three Wheel. It _is_ him, right?"

"I thought you were home?" the cop inquired.

Heedless of the heavy silence, Kathleen picked up the pan and a folded kitchen towel, walked to the table and dropped it there, set the pan with scrambled eggs down on it. She looked at the cop.

"He was at the store just before you came," she explained calmly. "We were out of milk."

She straightened and fixed the cop with a hard stare. "I'm sorry we can't help you."

The cop's misgiving was obvious and tangible, but if he had expected anyone to talk in this neighbourhood he had only himself to blame. He took one last look around the room, gaze resting on Aiden for a moment longer, considering if he should push the gang angle he suspected. Instead, he shrugged slightly. He reminded them they could always call if they suddenly remembered something, but then left without another word.

When he was gone, Tighe chuckled as he stepped close to Aiden, elbowed him in the side and said, "See? You should get dressed when mommy tells you to."

Aiden elbowed him back, but changed it into a grip when he felt Kathleen's scrutiny. He pushed Tighe to the table and down on a chair, before he sat down by his side, still with the cup of coffee in his hand.

In the wake of the cop’s departure, the silence was still heavy, ripe with many unsaid things. None of which seemed to bother Nicole much as she came in, looking by far the worst of all of them with bags under her eyes. Short, damp hair stood out in wild angles, but at least she was already dressed. She shot Aiden a baleful look.

She demanded to have coffee, though everyone knew she didn’t like the taste. Kathleen let her have the cup and would later dump most of it in the sink.

Breakfast was a tense affair, reminding Kathleen of her lack of sleep, among other things. Aiden and Nicole bickered and Tighe kept his head down. Kathleen didn’t eat much, but forced down half a toast and few forkfuls of egg, keeping her attention on the clock.

“Let’s not run late today,” she said, announcing the breakfast over. “Go get ready,” she told Nicole. “Tighe will drive you to school today.”

She didn’t give Nicole the option to argue, but looked at Tighe to say, “Why don’t you wait in the car?”

Tighe shot Aiden a quick look, but seemed to be entirely too glad he had permission to get the hell out of here. Aiden ignored him and Nicole took the rest of her toast with her.

Kathleen could still hear Nicole rummage in her room, but for now her daughter was safely out of earshot.

Kathleen said, “What happened last night?”

“I had nothing to do with it!”

She took a heavy breath, surprised at how much effort it took. “That’s not what I asked.”

“We were at Krome’s place. I wasn’t lying!”

Kathleen frowned, studied her son but saw nothing but stubborn determination in his face. He wasn’t stupid enough to think he could hide his activities from her and he certainly knew what she thought about them. Some days, it was a very bitter pill to swallow.

“This Krome… he’s your gang leader?” Kathleen asked, forced herself to sound reasonable, but the admission alone grated. “Did he set you up?”

“Mom…” Aiden tried. “It wasn’t us.”

“Well, if it _was_ you, I wonder if you wouldn’t tell me the exact same thing.”

Aiden clenched his jaw and he seemed determined to keep silent, but thought better of it immediately.

He said, "I had nothing to do with it, I swear."

Kathleen still studied his face and she sighed again. She thought of her own mother, less than twenty years ago, sighing like that. She'd tried to explain it all to Aiden, back in Belfast when she'd laid out for him and Nicole why they had to leave, why their father was not a good man to have around. She'd thought they'd understood, but this? Aiden was slipping away, a little more every single day.

Kathleen looked away from him, over the table and she told him, "Get going."

If Aiden caught any of the nuances, he didn’t show it. He seemed only glad to be released, slipped to his feet and left the kitchen in a mixture of a swagger and a run, eager to be free of it.

Once alone, Kathleen faltered, a plate in her hand and reaching for another. It took an entire minute until she found the energy to keep going.

* * *

Aiden and Tighe lounged on the metal awning over a shop door. The place had recently gone bankrupt, just like several other businesses along the street. Wooden boards had been nailed over the door at some point, but already someone had torn them off and squatters had moved in, junkies or homeless, depending on time of day and weather.

Aiden handed the joint off to Tighe and leaned his back into the strained wall, let one leg dangle over the edge of the awning.

Tighe took a long drag, let his head drop back and watched the smoke curl into the overcast sky. Sometimes, the clouds would tear open, letting a little blue peak through as a meek reminder of summer, lasting barely a few minutes at a time.

"Man…" he started, chuckled. "Your mother's a scary bitch, you know that, right?"

"Yeah," Aiden agreed pensively, then reached out with one hand for Tighe's shoulder until the other was looking back at him. Aiden plastered a frown on his lax features and added, "That's what makes me a scary son of bitch, so don't talk shit like that, T."

Tighe lifted both his hands up, "Hey, it was a fucking compliment, you asshole." He made some vague gestures with one hand in the air. "But nooo, you've got to go all _gangsta_ on me! 'No talking crap about my _mother_!' Fuck. _You_."

"Fuck you, too."

Tighe grunted, then chuckled again and resettled himself more comfortable on the awning, holding the joint out to Aiden, who took it and took a long drag.

“Hey man,” Tighe started again. “Aren’t you skipping chem class?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t Leslie in that class?”

Aiden chuckled a bit before he answered. He angled his head down, watched the street below their feet instead of the dull sky, though cracking asphalt wasn’t much more interesting. It had something desolate about it, deserted and lost. It could be the opening shot for some dystopian sci fi movie, the artsy type where a sprinkle of blood comes out of nowhere, splattering across the ground and tracing the cracks…

“Yeah, so what?”

“She’s hot,” Tighe said, shrugging.

“ _But,”_ Aiden stretched the word in his mouth, gestured with the joint in his fingers before Tighe made a lazy attempt to snatch it from him. Aiden transferred it into his other hand, held it out of reach as he finished, “But I know she’s got a crush on me, so… that’s what you do. You make them come to _you_.”

Tighe eyed his friend skeptically. “Are you sure that’s how it works?”

“Leslie’s best friend has a sister and _her_ best friend has some classes with Nicky,” Aiden grinned. “Girls like to talk.”

“You lost me at ‘best friend’… one of them, anyway,” Tighe muttered, expression drifting into a frown. “And stop hogging the joint. That’s my pot anyway. You’re lucky I’m sharing.”

Aiden relented and handed what was left of the joint over, shifted some more to hook his other leg against the edge of the awning. He watched an old station-wagon lumbering down the street, its engine growling darkly as it passed, weathered black paint made the thing look like a meat wagon, all that was missing was some Mardi Gras parade following in its wake. But Bridgeport wasn't interesting enough for that sort of thing, especially on a slow Thursday.

"Poor Three Wheel," Tighe muttered, out of the blue, jolting Aiden back into the present.

"Yeah," Aiden agreed blithely. "Didn't deserve it _at all,_ the motherfucker."

"What do you mean?"

"The way I hear it, Three Wheel was double-dealing Krome and when the shit blew up, he tried to make nice with Drago himself to get out of it," Aiden explained. "That's bad form, he had it coming."

Tighe blinked a few times, took the last drag from the joint and snipped it away, tracked the bud with his gaze as it arched through the air, hit the concrete and rolled a few inches further. It was rather anticlimactic.

"Krome did it?" Tighe asked.

" _Of course_ not," Aiden said, a little sharper. "But… people like Three Wheel, they fall into knives sometimes, bad fucking luck."

Aiden pulled himself up, shoulder into the wall and turned a critical eye on Tighe. "It happens to people who run their mouths, too."

Tighe snorted and let his eyes droop closed. "You like this shit too much, you know that?"

Aiden laughed and was silent for a while, letting the city sounds wash over him. The clouds ripped open and a few rays of sunlight cut down, bleached golden in the dusty air. It was warm for a moment only, and then the shadow returned, harsher in comparison than it had been before.

"Why do you think a place like _Owen_ 's Garage is ran by a latino?" Aiden mused.

"Maybe so he doesn't scare the pagan locals,” Tighe offered dispassionately. “Like us.”

Aiden sat up, glanced at Tighe and slipped from the awning, landed smoothly. He stretched his arms over his head, languidly, before he seemed ready to tense into a much sharper posture.

"Hey, you wanna catch a bite?" he asked.

"In a minute," Tighe said.

"I don't have a car," Aiden pointed out. "That means you're coming."

Tighe pulled a face, but finally leaned up, frowned down on Aiden from his perch. "Is there a reason why pot makes you pushy? Like, that's the opposite of what normal people do, they just relax. You're annoying as fuck."

"Yeah, but I got something to do," Aiden only shrugged. "We're meeting some of the guys in the Dogtown, I need your help with something."

Tighe growled quietly, like a disgruntled animal, but he pushed himself up and got down from the awning without further complaint, only to stand squinting in another ray of sunlight.

"But _you're_ buying," he said as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and fell into step beside Aiden, sauntering back to the where Tighe's car was parked outside the school.

"Why not," Aiden shrugged and held out his hand. "Let me drive."

* * *

Kathleen still had an hour before she would have to leave for work and she enjoyed the moment of silence as the evening slowly filled the kitchen. Nicole had finished most of her homework and slunk off to watch television with a last slice of pizza for company. The TV chattered from the adjoining room and added a few dancing lights to the floor, but it wasn't disturbing the moment.

Kathleen wrapped her fingers around the cup of coffee in her hand, felt the warmth seep through. She inhaled the scent and let her eyes fall closed.

The growl of a car brought her back and she snapped her eyes open again, a frown settling on her face before she even understood why it would be there at all.

She heard the jingle of keys, the snapping of the front door and a moment later, Aiden's voice from the living room.

"Hey, Nik, I got you chips."

The bag chittered as he threw it and Nicole caught it, clearly already getting to work on it.

Nicole said, "You promised you'd help with my homework. I had to do it with Mom."

"I brought you chips, that's a sorry. Where's Mom?"

"Kitchen."

Kathleen turned her gaze toward the door, just in time to see Aiden stride in. She spotted a happy grin on his face as he stepped to the table and dropped the key of her car down in front of her.

"I got it back!" he announced.

Kathleen's gaze had been pulled along with the key and lingered on it before she tracked it back up to her son's face, watched him in silence until his grin began to falter.

It wasn't very bright in the room anymore, but it was more than enough, especially because she'd already known she'd see it, if she paid attention. She uncurled one hand from her cup and snapped it forward, faster than he could have expected, and closed her hand around his wrist, pulled forward and forced him to drape his hand on to the table by the key.

The knuckles on his hand were bruised.

"What did you do?" she asked, very quietly.

She felt the way his arm tensed under her grip, fingers trying to flex or curl away, muscles straining in his effort not to snatch his arm out of her grip.

"I just went to Owen's Garage," he said.

"And did what?"

Aiden hesitated, unsure what to say.

"Meza was ripping you off," Aiden pointed out. "That wasn't fair of him. And you need the car, going by bus is a bitch."

"Ricardo Meza is just trying to keep his head above water, like everybody else," Kathleen said. "I told you I'd already reached an agreement with him."

Aiden creased his brows in confusion and frustration. "Why won't you let me help?"

"You help me best with good grades," she said quietly. "You help me better with grades good enough for a college scholarship."

Unimpressed by her words, Aiden moaned, "Ah, college."

He pulled a face and added, "It wouldn't get you your car back."

"Not today, no," she conceded. "But that's not the point."

"You keep saying that," Aiden muttered. "What's it even mean?"

Kathleen relaxed her hand, took it away from him and wrapped her fingers around the cup.

"Some things matter more than others," she said. "What's more important, my convenience or the health and livelihood of someone who has his own bills to pay?"

"But he was ripping you off!" Aiden insisted.

"Aiden, sit down," Kathleen said.

He hovered for a moment, the need to assure himself of his own independence and perhaps to steel himself for what he suspected was about to come.

The chair scraped over the floor as he pulled it back, he dropped himself messily on it and hung an insolent arm over the back.

Kathleen took a breath before she spoke.

"Do you remember your father?"

"Of course I remember Dad."

"Yes, but do you remember what it was like?" she studied him for a reaction, but there was nothing but teenage defiance and a special brand of typical Pearce stubbornness. "There was that one time, when his gambling buddies thrashed our living room over debt. You got slapped."

"Yeah, and _you_ slapped me, too."

She almost laughed. "Yes," she said and her own frustration was becoming hard to hide. "Because what were you thinking? Stepping in like you did? Those men were dangerous, they could've done far worse than slap you." She stopped herself. She didn't want to bring it up, it was supposed to be only an example, but the shock of that night seemed to have taken deeper roots than she had realised.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Aiden demanded.

"Graham always said he did it for us, you remember that too?" She fixed him, close to desperation for any hint she was getting through to him at all. "Did it _feel_ like he was doing anything for us?"

"Dad was a mess," Aiden said. "But he tried."

Kathleen nodded, "Yes, he tried."

She paused a moment, let the silence linger before she said, "Are you _trying,_ too?"

He was far too smart not to understand her meaning. It put an indignant frown on his face and he said, "No, I'm _helping._ If you'd just let me…"

Kathleen slammed her hand down on the table, hard enough to rattle the bones in her hand all the way to her elbow.

"Breaking the law helps _no one!"_ she snapped. "And I'm so very tired to have this discussion again. I had it with your father for _years!_ And I'm not going to watch you make the same stupid mistakes again. Do you get that?"

She had half risen from her seat, staring her son down who bore the weight of it with a stoicism well beyond his age. She didn't feel like she was getting anything through his thick skull, though. She hadn't got it through to her husband, either…

The doorbell rang, then someone hammered hard on the front door, shouting.

_"Yo, Danny Boy! Move your bitch ass out here before I come get it!"_

Aiden hadn't even flinched when she had hit the table, but a tiny shiver ran through his body now. She saw his eyes go wide, an instant of panic, he covered up immediately. He clenched his jaw, blinked up at her and opened his mouth to say something, but the man outside shouted again.

_"Danny Boy! Last chance or your door's a goner!"_

Aiden only mouthed a meaningless 'I'm sorry', already on his feet, slipped past her without meeting her gaze again. He pushed past Nicole on the way to the door, Kathleen met her daughter's bewildered look and could do nothing but shake her head.

* * *

Aiden burst through the door, giving it an aggressive kick he hoped would land right in Krome's ugly mug, but Krome must have expected it and slapped his hand flat against the door from the outside, stalling it. The wood vibrated between the two of them and Aiden pushed outside.

"What the fuck?" he demanded, up in Krome's face and right into his personal space. Without looking, Aiden jarred the door out of Krome's hand, threw it closed.

"That's my line," Krome sneered, unimpressed and not budging even an inch.

Krome was a few years older than Aiden, a little taller and broader. Red-haired with a permanent pink-ish tint on his skin and mocking blue eyes.

"I just got home," Krome said, affecting a light, conversational tone with menace behind it. "And I hear, little Danny Boy is giving orders to _my_ crew now?"

Aiden held still, momentarily caught between Krome's rage in front of him and Kathleen's more subtle fury behind him. He didn't like having Krome on his doorstep, close enough for Kathleen and Nicky to hear what he was saying, never mind he hadn't exactly expected Krome to be riled up about what he'd done.

Aiden took a small step back and then to the side, getting down the steps to the garden path. Krome's convertible was parked messily on the sidewalk ahead, still blaring loud music into the evening air.

"What's the problem?" Aiden asked, more dismissive than he felt. At least Krome was following him down, if only so he could clamp a hand around Aiden's upper arm and yank him back around, forcing him to face him again.

"They're my friends," Aiden added reasonably, but edging backward in Krome's grip. "They helped me out. I'm not trying to run your crew."

"What's the problem?" Krome repeated sneering. Without letting go of Aiden, Krome stabbed him with a finger in the chest, saying, "The problem is you little punk think you can run my business. I have a deal with Meza! How do you think that looks?"

"He was…"

"Shut the fuck up, you Irish piece of shit! Right from the start, you were a fucking arrogant pain in the ass! You don't show any _respect._ You don't follow the rules. You think there's a place for some upstart dipshit like you in my crew? You…"

Aiden threw the first punch and then tore into Krome without holding back. They kicked up the drying lawn, scrambling for footholds against the other, both sounding like rabid dogs, fighting over scraps out in the street. It wasn't far from the truth.

Aiden's eyebrow split under a blow and a rivulet of blood ran down the side of his face and into his eye, confused his sense of balance for long enough, Krome wrapped a hand around his throat. It wasn't a good hold, even clawing his fingers into Aiden' neck as he was. He kept pushing back, trying to trip him, but all he managed to do was make them both crash into the trashcan.

They reeled apart, half-slipping on scattered trash. Aiden dove for the lid, brought it up like a shield and smashed it right into Krome's face. Krome howled, stumbled back. Aiden lowered the lid. Krome's nose was bloodied and swollen and for a moment he seemed dumbfounded, wiping at the blood.

Krome looked up, fixed on Aiden and hissed, disconcertingly quiet, "You're fucking _dead_ now."

Aiden punched him with the lid again, but this time Krome saw him coming and ripped it away from him, sent the thing sailing off somewhere while he launched himself at Aiden, tearing them both back down.

Aiden landed on some hard piece of trash, unexpected pain shot up his spine and it forced a choking yell from his throat. It left him off-balance for long enough for Krome to get his hand around his throat again, but Aiden immediately snapped his head up, into Krome's broken nose and Krome, with a yell, let up.

As he skittered back, Aiden brought his leg up, kicked it into Krome's stomach and Krome toppled back. He only came back up on all fours, slower than Aiden by a narrow margin, but well enough for Aiden to deliver a second kick into his already bloodied face.

Krome drew back, still struggling to get back to his feet when Aiden reached for him and picked him up by the collar, brought them face to face.

"You sure?" Aiden asked through bared teeth and with glinting eyes. In reply, Krome threw another punch, caught the side of Aiden's face, yanked free of the hold and threw a second punch. Dodging it, Aiden caught Krome's arm and held, twisted it around so hard, Krome had no choice but to drop to his knee. Aiden kept pushing until Krome was far enough down that Aiden could smash his head into the side of the trashcan. It rolled away sluggishly under the blow.

Krome struggled, snarling, kicked out with his legs and worked himself free again.

He stumbled away a few steps. "You piece of shit, you're done!" Krome declared, breathing hard, wet from his broken nose. "You'll be put _down,_ you know that?"

In answer, Aiden stepped forward quickly, swiped the feet away from under Krome, gave him a hard kick to the back of one knee as he went down. He took one step back, spread his hands out in mocking invitation.

"Bring it on!" he yelled and his voice tipped a little. "Seen nothing impressive yet!"

Krome pulled himself back to his feet, withdrew one careful step at a time. He straightened a little when Aiden made no attempt to attack again.

"You're done for, bitch," Krome said, but each time he repeated it, he sounded a little less convincing. He stole a quick look around, clearly gauging how far it was to his car.

Aiden frowned and the expression pushed fresh blood down the side of his face. He wiped at it absent-mindedly as he caught up with Krome, knocked him to the ground again. Krome didn't resist this time, winced in pain and wrapped one arm around his torso.

"You got that one backward," Aiden said, conversational despite his own fast breathing. "You're down on the ground like some little bitch. Not me. What's the crew gonna think, they see you like that?"

Krome sputtered, crawled a few steps before he started struggling to his feet. He kept his gaze on Aiden, but turned and took a few hurried steps toward his car.

"It's not fucking over," Krome declared.

"Then where are you going?"

Aiden watched as Krome crossed the lawn, only when Krome almost reached the car, broke Aiden into motion again. A few quick, long strides brought him to the edge of the sidewalk just as Krome climbed into his car.

"Come on, why are you leaving?" Aiden inquired, had to raise his voice over the howl of the engine. "I'm not done fucking you over!"

Krome backed up, then brought the car around in a sharp circle, accelerated down the street.

"Run!" Aiden yelled after him. "Run and hide!"

He sucked in ragged breaths, riding out the waves of his adrenaline.

"We'll see who's done for," he added, more to himself as he turned away from the street. Some of the trash had been scattered across the lawn and he gave some bundled piece of plastic wrappings a kick and it tore open, dispersing half-rotted vegetable peel.

Looking up, he froze.

Kathleen stood outlined in the front door, a black shadow, framed by light. Her expression was hidden in darkness, even the direction of her gaze could be anything. Could be the trash, could be Aiden's bleeding brow and swelling lip. She could even be looking into the distance, all the way home to Belfast perhaps and the realisation she'd never had a chance to get far enough away.

Aiden knew she was looking at him, at his eyes, though he had no idea if she saw more than he did.

Her shadow changed and deformed to accommodate Nicole coming up behind her. The shadow jostled as Kathleen moved, took her gaze away from her son and let it pass over her daughter before it came back to him.

By then, the spell had already broken. Remnant adrenaline surged through Aiden's veins and put new energy into his steps as he walked back to the door, pushed past his mother and Nicky into the house. Only Nicky's dumbstruck attention trailed after him, like the thin line of blood that soiled the floor in his wake.

Kathleen was no longer looking at him.

* * *

_"Are you fucking crazy?"_

"Yeah, crazy like the fox, T. Don't worry, I got it covered."

_"Don't worry? You're_ literally _dead man walking now, you know that? Don't take it personally, but I'm gonna stay away from you. I don't wanna be collateral damage or anything."_

"You shouldn't. If you got any sense, you stick with me. Krome's on the way out. He already fucked up with Three Wheel. This thing? He won't live it down. Krome’s over.”

_"… seriously? I mean, you really mean that? It's not just talk? This is serious, Aiden."_

"You should pay more attention, the other guys have already figured it out. Krome keeps pushing, he'll just lose most of the crew."

_"Wait… you_ are _serious?"_

"Of course I'm serious."

_"Shit, man. I don't know. You sure you can pull it off? What about Drago?"_

"If it goes to shit so bad, Drago has to step in, they'll be finding Krome's body for weeks and Krome knows it, I know it, everyone knows it. Why don't you know it?"

_"Alright, smart-ass, maybe I believe it. Just… tell me one thing. You didn't plan it, right? You just… I dunno, just got with the flow?"_

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

_"I don't know if you realise you don't sound like you're joking when you say shit like that."_

"That's part of my charm. Listen, I gotta go."

_"Why? Some more kings to kill and thrones to usurp?"_

"No, not this week… I promised I'd help Nicky with her physics homework and I'm meeting up with Leslie later."

_"Fuck._ Me _. Right. What else can I say? All hail?"_

"You're welcome. And fuck you."

_"Fuck you, too."_

**Author's Note:**

> The Pearces being immigrants creates more stupid problems than you can shake a stick at. It so very 19th Century, isn't it? I'm the first (and often only) one to defend the writing in this game, but this? Nope, not even gonna try.
> 
> Aiden has a gang tattoo on the left side of his torso. It's mentioned in Flashpoint and I'm really proud I remembered I put it there.
> 
> Bridgeport is a part of Chicago, it has no equivalent in the game.
> 
> **For my non-US readers:** SAT is a standardised aptitude test used for college admission, usually taken in the last year of high school.
> 
> **For my US readers:** Correct me if I got anything seriously wrong!
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Revised on 22/January/2016, 28/October/2016 and 09/May/2017**


End file.
